You don't grow old; when you cease to grow, you are old.

--- Charles Judson Herrick, 1868-1960

A woman walked into my department at work today. She was wrinkled, walking with a slight limp and a cane to steady her movements. Her stark white hair was perched atop of her head in opposition to the severe black outfit she was wearing. A large diamond ring was snug on her left hand which was only matched in size by the ruby pendant around her neck. She needed to purchase some stationery.

She asked me to sit with her while she delved into the papers available. I did gladly. We got to talking and she began to tell me a tale about travelling to Europe in the 1950s. We lost track of the time and eventually we got back to the task at hand. We selected her stationery, and then we proceeded to select her holiday cards.

She was bright and articulate. The only tell-tale signs of aging were the wrinkles and the hearing aid in her left ear. She could hold court with the best of them.  I was mesmerized by her spirit. She was just amazing. She just turned ninety last month.

She was born in Houston in 1912, and she has lived here her entire life. She married at eighteen to a "nice boy. A handsome boy". She raised four children with him, three of which are still alive. He oldest died of "old age" a couple of years ago. She gave birth to him at twenty years old. Her eyes sparkled thinking back to her younger days, raising children before air-conditioning and refrigerators were commonplace in a home.

I asked her about her son dying of "old age". Her eyes gathered some mist, and she began to tell about how when her son turned sixty, he though his life was over. She tried to explain to him that everything was just beginning, and he would learn to relish his golden years. Like any son, he refused to listen to his mother. She told about how he became withdrawn socially and turned into a "grumpy old man". I got a chuckle out of that comment because she, too, is in her golden years.

She told me to work hard while I am young. When the time is right, retire and do all of the things that I want to do in life. She told me how she was blessed with a husband who earned a very good living, which allowed the family to travel and have a good life. The family used to take annual vacations to Europe every spring "when the mountains began to melt", but she is unable to fly anymore. She wasn't upset about that fact. She was happy with her memories.

By this time, a couple other members of my department had gathered near us. She told us about staying alive. Not growing "old", but adding years and memories to one's life. Each wrinkle on your face is a  memory of some sort, she explained.  "Never be scared of changing your life", she told us, "for I have been through much change in my years, and all of it has been for the better".  She knocked on the table and said "I'm so lucky that I am not senile. I can take care of myself and I live independently. I can not do everything that I used to do, but enough of it to still have a good time.  Knock wood".

She was even thrilled about not being allowed to drive anymore. She doesn't like the rush that people are in these days. She was happy to employ a driver, to free her to actually see the city while she ran errands. Everything in her life has been a blessing.

I walked her up to the counter to ring up her purchases. She asked me to walk her to her car, for it had been a while since a "gentleman has taken me to my car". I wrapped her arm in mine, and we went outside. She motioned for her driver to open her door, and I helped her sit in the backseat of her Rolls Royce. She truly does have style.

"Get that stationery in quickly", she told me. "I have many letters to write. I've been so busy and I have so much to tell everyone, and not just about doctor's visits, either", she joked.

I took her hand in mine and I told her how honored I was to meet her. She put her left hand on my cheek, and I kissed her hand. I shut the door to her towncar, and she waved goodbye with her diamond glistening in the sun.